The Statement of Chris Redfield
by Lieju
Summary: My name is Chris Redfield, and what I'm am about to write on these pages, is true.  You might have heard about the stories of unethical research and experimental bioweapons that destroyed Raccoon City. However, the truth is far more horrifying.


My name is Chris Redfield, and what I'm am about to write on these pages, is true.

Or perhaps the doctors are right and it all exists only in my mind. How I wish for that to be the case, but I am afraid the truth is much more bizarre and horrifying.

I am no writer, so expressing my thoughts is not easy for me, and I don't even know if anyone will read this. They didn't listen to me after what people have come to call The Mansion Incident, even after what happened to Raccoon City.

The truth was buried, and the story about an experimental bio-weapon, a virus that escaped the laboratories was accepted as the explanation of what happened in that city, and in the Spencer mansion two months prior.

Perhaps Umbrella buried the the evidence, or maybe they didn't have to do anything to hide the far more horrifying truth, as the humans cannot accept the real explanation that would fundamentally change the way they look at the world, rather clinging to stories of killer-viruses and monsters made by science by mixing the genes of different animals, as horrifying as those things are.

So very soon I learned it was in my best interests not speak of what I saw in that mansion, and had I not witnessed certain events just few months ago that made it certain those things were not gone, and that humanity might not survive...

But I imagine you are confused.

I will speak of what I saw at Rockfort and Antarctica, and perhaps you will then understand why my dreams have become a shapeless mess of tortured sounds and twisted images, and why a good night's sleep is unattainable for me these days. No longer am I able to close my eyes and drift to sleep, ignorant of things that lie beneath.

Ignorant of them, and of Him.

And perhaps you who now read this can understand my reasons for my actions.

But first I will write about The Mansion Incident in July 1998.

At the time, I was a police officer, and a part of S.T.A.R.S, Special Tactics and Rescue Service of Raccoon City.

We, the Alpha team, were flying around the forest zone situated in north-west of Raccoon City. We were searching for the helicopter of our compatriots, the Bravo team, who disappeared middle of their mission.

There had been outlandish reports of families being attacked by a group of about ten people.

Victims were apparently eaten, the cannibalized remains found with human bite marks on them.

The Bravo team was sent in to investigate, but we lost contact.

We spotted their helicopter, crash landed in the middle of the forest, and landed to get a better look, and help any survivors.

Bravo team's helicopter was a derelict. Save from the remaining body of Kevin Dooley, the pilot.

We continued our search for the other members. And it turned into a nightmare.

Joseph Frost was the first to go. Those snarling dog-like things leaped on him, and slashed his throat before we could even react.

It's hard for me to describe what happened there, partly because I am ashamed to admit we acted in such an unprofessional manner.

We had gone through training for situations like this, we had faced dangerous opponents before, had to work based on little or no information in some previous cases, and yet, when faced with those creatures, and that putrid smell, all we could do was run and break every protocol that stated what the proper way to deal with a situation like this was.

The only one who seemed to be unaffected by this horror was Captain Wesker, who at one point shot one of those beasts. They moved like dogs, but growled unlike any living thing I had ever heard, and that could seemingly shrug off any bullets shot in their rotting flesh, going down only after their head had been destroyed.

I think it was at that point Brad Vickers, our pilot, left with the helicopter, as we frantically fled the monsters in whatever random direction Wesker was leading us.

We soon saw the mansion, and relieved to get away from our pursuers, we ran in and shut the doors.

There were only three S.T.A.R.S members left. Captain Wesker, Jill Valentine, and myself. We did not know where Barry Burton was, as he had been separated from us at some point.

But before we had time to discuss the next course of action or assess our situation, we heard a gunshot, echoing in the hall.

I volunteered to investigate, partly, I admit, because of the shame I felt for so forgetting my training and duty in the forest just a moment ago.

Now, after getting inside where there was electric light and familiarity in that human-made house, the fear I had felt when facing those creatures in the dark forest felt stupid and childish.

Wesker and Jill stayed in the main hall, securing it, while I went to investigate in the direction of the sound.

I found myself in a dining room, with a burning fireplace, indicating there were people who lived there or at least visited the place very recently.

The dining room was empty, so I decided to try the smaller door on the other side of it.

And there, in the dark hallway, I came face to face with the first of those shambling corpses.

It was hunched over something, and I could hear the sounds of flesh ripping and tearing, and then it turned towards me, and I saw the blood-smeared mouth of this rotten being, and what was it's prey it had indulged in.

Kenneth, the member of bravo team, his throat torn open. I had arrived too late for him.

The creature that had once been human slowly rose and turned towards me, reaching out its hands for my throat.

I could not move, transfixed to the dead eyes that lulled over in the holes of its skull, when it let out a gurgling, animalistic moan from it's dead throat in anticipation of sinking its teeth in my flesh.

That shook me out of this trance, and remembering the handgun I held, raised it and emptied the magazine in it's head.

With a sickening crunch, the creature fell.

I was not sure it was dead, as even without it's head, it still writhed on the ground, hands moving as if still reaching for it's prey.

I backed down the way I had come, all too conscious of the lack of bullets I had for my gun now. I still had my knife, but what use could it be against monsters that would not flinch even after being shot?

But as I returned to the hallway, I found it empty, neither of my colleagues answering to my calls.

I was alone.

On the other hand I wanted to remain in the relative safety of the well-lit main hall, but the thought of staying in that place alone was so unbearable I rather embarked on the mansion to explore it and to find some member of either the Bravo team or my own.

I soon discovered the architecture of the place was peculiar, with long, narrow corridors, odd recesses where emblems could be fitted to open doors and move furniture, both surrealistic and realistic paintings all filled with hellish imagery of death and war and archaic rituals with human sacrifices and monsters that resembled no animal I had ever seen.

I even discovered ammo for my handgun, too relieved to question this providence, and thus equipped felt more courageous.

I was faced with several other zombies, but after the initial shock I discovered I could easily avoid their slow attacks, and turn back before they noticed me, if the room in question held more than one of them.

However, the more nimble, dog-like creatures I avoided, and when so much as hearing their howls, just turned back right away.

But they were not the only things that posed a danger in this mansion, the rooms themselves could prove deadly.

With bizarre traps, like moving automated statues, or falling ceilings designed to descend on trapped victims, it was as if the house itself wished to claim my life. And yet, all this made me even more determined to get into the heart of this mystery. I had somehow become certain that this way I could find Jill, and as this indeed was the case, I must wonder if my mental state was influenced somehow.

That might sound paranoid to you, but after seeing what kind of things those people, no, _things_, behind all this are capable of, I am no longer certain my mind was completely my own that night.

All I know is that I had but one goal in my mind, that of uncovering the secret of these monsters. The fear I had felt had been pushed to the background, adrenalin pumping through my veins. I knew from experience that the reality of my situation would eventually sink in, but for a while I could function with efficiency and clear-headedness I would lose when my body and mind returned to normal.

Many of the doors in the mansion were locked, but I managed to find keys for them, as if they were left for me to find, as I now know was the case.

Behind one of these doors I finally found two people, both from the Bravo team;

Rebecca Chambers, and Richard Aiken.

The latter was on the brink of death, ravaged by a giant creature of some kind, with huge teeth marks over his body, hardly even conscious, babbling about monsters.

Chambers, the medic, was in vain tending to his wounds.

I was no medical professional, but even I could see the damage was too great, and all we could do was to try make his last moments comfortable. And indeed, he soon stopped his labored breathing.

I had known of Rebecca, as the word of this young medic who had joined the S.T.A.R.S. at such a young age had gotten around, but I had never really met her.

She spoke with a shrill voice I associated with panic, and when asked what had happened to the rest of the Bravo team, she fell silent, and I felt no need to press her to speak at the moment.

It was clear she had been affected by the horrors she had seen, and I could not fault her for that.

I almost suspected she was running a fever, as she possessed a staring, glassy-eyed look in her eyes, and slightly trembled and muttered to herself when she didn't notice I was looking.

We made our way towards the room with medical supplies I had found earlier that had a sturdy door and seemed a safe place to rest.

"Somebody sure knows how to get a deal."

Confused, I turned to her, uncertain if she was speaking to me. Rebecca was staring at the bottles of chemicals on the shelves.

"Most of the medical supplies here are from Umbrella."

Something in the tone she spoke in, in the way that she stared at me made me wonder if those words held some kind of hidden meaning.

As I now know of Umbrella's involvement, I think she knew of it as well, but was afraid to speak to me directly, maybe suspecting I was a part of the conspiracy that had led our teams to this situation.

But, back then, deciding she was just trying to make conversation to help us forget the horrors we had been through, I simply said something vague about the pharmaceutical giant, and we let the matter drop.

Leaving her in the relative safety of the medical room, I ventured further. In the process of the exploration, I came across some documents that helped share light on what had happened.

I brought them with me from there, and while I submitted the originals to the authorities, I kept photo-copies of them, so I can duplicate them here.

A diary left behind by a researcher of some kind I found from the adjacent building with dormitory rooms and laboratories:

_**April 7, 1998**_

_I thought being transferred to this research facility would change things. But no, I'm _

_still not told where those samples originally came from, or what kind of research they are _

_doing in the underground laboratory._

_They still expect me to work on this project without even knowing what I'm actually working on._

_But it is fascinating. In all my years I have never seen anything like this. The chemistry of these _

_certain samples is so fundamentally alien, they must be either artificial, or a result of a branch of _

_evolution so far removed from everything else I suspect they would not fit in the Kingdom Animalia at all._

_**May 10, 1998**_

_I finally got somewhere, and got a glimpse of the more advanced research. I was assigned to the "Hunter" _

_project. These creatures are a result of a genetic engineering, clearly. Somehow made by mixing human DNA _

_with reptile genes. I do not still understand how they were created, and more importantly, why. The higher-ups _

_will just tell me I don't have to worry about it, and just figure out my part, and work on the biochemistry._

_**May 12, 1998**_

_I don't like those creatures, Hunters. It must be because of how dangerous they are, obviously. But there's _

_something else about them, something I can't put my finger on, and that disturbs me on a very primitive, basic level._

_Or it might be because of the bad dreams I've been having. I can't seem to get any good rest lately._

_**May 16, 1998**_

_I saw Martin carrying this odd statue around. It looked heavy, so I offered my assistance, making a _

_joking remark of the odd furnishings of the mansion and how they looked expensive._

_But he was startled, and quickly covered the thing and declined my help._

_It looks like he didn't want me to see it, but why?_

_The statue looked old and was covered in moss. I didn't get a good look at it, but it seemed to depict a very _

_surreal creature with snakes or tentacles._

_I'm looking too much into this, it was just a part of the bizarre decor of this place, some old piece of antique._

_But it looked so familiar. I think I've seen it somewhere._

_**May 18, 1998**_

_My dreams have gotten even worse. The thing in that statue has gotten into my nightmares._

_The lack of sleep is affecting my performance; I almost dropped a vial I was carrying today._

_There have been auditory hallucinations as well, I thought I heard drumming coming from inside the walls._

_**May 19, 1998**_

_I tried to eat, but it all tasted rotten. I think I'm running a fever, my left hand is not working properly, _

_I thought for a while I couldn't even feel my pulse._

_Martin told me to come with him to the underground laboratory. He said they wanted me to _

_help them there. Finally. If I just didn't feel so sick._

And a suicide note left behind by someone:

_**June 22, 1998**_

_I had to do it. We ran from those things_

_ — helping each other to survive._

_But Robert started to lose it, talking about following the sound of drums._

_I had to do it. Those damn things are pure evil._

_There was no other way. He would have done the same _

_if it were the other way around. After I put him out of his_

_misery I had to just put him in the bathroom. _

_Now I'm probably the last one..._

_How could this happen? I'll never forgive myself for being part of this project. _

_Eventually I'll get what's coming to me, though. There's no way_

_to escape from this nut house. It's just a matter of time now._

_The lamp has gone out. The light was the only thing that was keeping them_

_from me, I can hear the damn things scuttering about in the darkness,_

_waiting for the night to come._

_Everything is set. All I need is a little courage to get it done. Knowing that_

_I'll leave many things undone is regret beyond words._

_But, this is better than just waiting to turn into one of them. I think _

_I'm starting to hear that infernal drumming. Please_

_understand and at least let me end my_

_life as a person._

It seemed they had done some kind of genetic research there that had gotten out of hand and the monstrous results of that research had escaped and now roamed around.

I didn't really know anything about something like that, and while I wondered if Rebecca and I were in danger of turning into them, but as even if we were, there wasn't really anything we could do about it at that time, so I pushed it out of my mind.

I had already been careful not to get bitten by the monsters, as I had seen enough zombie-movies to learn that you turned into one by getting bitten.

But there was something else I learned from these documents; there existed a secret laboratory underground, and that was where I decided to go.

And I indeed found my way down.

Now it seems so clear I was led there, with keys and maps appearing conveniently, leading me to the next clue, as if I was participating in a macabre treasure hunt. But back then, I did not question my luck.

I descended to the cellars, first. And when I managed to find my way down from there, the architecture changed, the brick walls giving way to bigger, damp rocks, and when I descended further, to odd stonework that seemed to follow it's own peculiar rules of geometry.

It seemed the mansion had been built over pre-existing ruins that must have been ancient. At times they looked weather-worn, and natural caves, but the hint of unnatural smoothness on some walls made me certain the structures were artificial.

The stairs I was descending were worn by the use of centuries, it seemed, and they were a bit too high for a human to comfortably walk them, but a metallic staircase, obviously recent work, had been built over it, making my descent easy even in parts where the original stairs had collapsed.

And on the wall electric lamps had been mounted. I wondered why anyone would build a laboratory in what seemed more like an archeological site or a mine to me.

The tunnel suddenly widened, turning into a hall that must have been huge. I couldn't see the roof, but around me I saw the same kind of ruins that suggested there had been buildings of some kind there.

In the midst of the greenish ruins that looked like they were carved from the bedrock itself, were two modern buildings, other one partly inside the old structure, looking like someone had tried turning it into a habitable house.

I ventured there first, and found myself in a laboratory. If laboratory was indeed the right word to describe the odd and horrible mixture of modern medical and technical equipment, and primitive stone altars and carvings, and weird things that were a combination of archaic and modern, like a crystal that shone oddly and had been connected to a computer via a framework of wires, or a surgical table fitted with bizarre instruments, some of which looked ancient.

The normal everyday things, like a filing cabinet, or a desk just accentuated the weirdness of it all. There was no way I could have figured out at all what kind of work had been going on there, but I still went through the papers in an effort to get a some kind of idea.

As I had guessed, most of it went right over my head, but seeing how the Umbrella logo was in most of them, and things like Umbrella's Intelligence Bureau were mentioned, it seemed like the company was involved at least, and possibly behind all of this.

And there, middle of the papers on the desk, in the open, like it was left for me to find, was a photograph of a team of researches, posing in either that laboratory or a similar one.

I knew one of them.

Captain Wesker, with his ever-present sunglasses and gelled back hair, wearing a lab coat, stern as ever.

He had led us in that mansion.

He had stayed in the main hall with Jill before they both disappeared.

He had betrayed S.T.A.R.S.

Shocked, but admitting it made sense and explained quite a lot, I exited the laboratory-building, making my way towards the other, more industrialized-looking one, noting how the cave, or a huge room I was in seemed to be better lit then the few lamps accounted for.

This other structure was built of steel, sturdy and resembling a big shipping container more than a building.

After finding a door and getting inside, I found that it consisted of several cells and a short corridor connecting them.

And in one of the cells, was Jill.

"Jill!" I called out to my partner.

"Chris!" She sprung up from the small prison bed "Wesker's the-"

I interrupted her: "I know". I would deal with him in time. Now getting Jill out of there was more important.

But the door didn't budge.

"I can't open it! Just wait, I'll be back. Jill, are you okay?"

She hesitated: "That thing below, I saw it. Chris, you should just... just run."

Infuriated, I turned to her. How could she suggest I'd just leave her here? But before I could say anything she added, with a voice that was horribly devoid of any hope:

"Wesker showed it to me. Chris, it doesn't-"

I left before she could finish, exiting the small building, determined to find the bastard who had done this to her, to our team. To find Wesker.

And make him let her free and then-

I saw movement from the corner of my eye, and almost shot the figure, before realizing who it was.

"Rebecca? What are you doing here?"

"I saw you in the garden, I followed you, finally caught up. This place, it is..." She trailed off, looking around.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay". And I was, although I would have preferred it she would have stayed up in the mansion out of the harms way.

"Rebecca, I found Jill. She is in that building over there" I motioned towards the prison. "I'll go deeper and try to find a way to get the door open. Will you go and keep her company? It will be safer there"

She nodded, and I started walking towards the gate-like structure leading downwards, when the medic called after me;

"Chris, take this. I only have one left, but they don't like the bright light".

I took the flash grenade, thanking her while wondering what kind of things this young woman, hardly more than a kid, had faced before I found her, and watched her make her way to the prison cells.

As I descended further down, the rows of familiar electric lamps stopped, and were replaced with an odd greenish glow seemingly coming from the walls that illuminated the way.

It was clear I was travelling in an artificial structure, but the architecture was utterly alien, with spirals and columns going in odd directions, forming web-like structures. I wondered if they were supporting the roof or the walls, or were simply decorations.

At some points it seemed like they and even the walls curved in an impossible ways. It's hard to describe, and it must have been an optical illusion, and I didn't get a good look at them anyway, the glow not allowing me to see far.

I could hear an odd sound, that at times almost resembled human voices, chanting, but at times I thought it must have been a mechanical sound, or perhaps the stone structures themselves around me settling and creaking.

The ceiling went higher as I descended, and finally I couldn't see it anymore, making my road seem like a crevice or a canyon.

Finally I found myself in a huge cavern.

Perhaps it too was an illusion brought on by the greenish glow, and it wasn't as big as it seemed, but still, it must have been huge. It's hard to believe such a large cavern could exist underground without collapsing. Not only was the roof so high I couldn't see it, I could see an abyss below me, blue spiral structures rising up from the darkness, reaching up.

The tunnel I had followed ended on a shelf, the floor diving into the darkness almost vertically. Not able to go down, I turned left, where I could see artificial lights. They were illuminating the wall, letting me see the outlines of a huge relief, carved into the rock wall. Middle of the structure, there was an assortment of machinery, both scientific and mining-related. I could see drills and other heavy equipment. It looked like they had been trying to dig into the wall, but not with much success, as most of the machinery was broken.

And there he was, hunched over a keyboard of an oddly out-of place computer.

His back was towards me, but I knew he had noticed me.

"Wesker!"

I called out to him. Why I didn't just pull my gun on him, I'm not sure. Maybe part of me still hoped it was all just a misunderstanding.

But his tone voice was cold beyond mere sternness and seriousness he usually displayed.

"So you've come. Chris, you make me proud. Of course you are one of my men."

It disgusted me hear him refer to me as such.

"Since when, Wesker?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"Since when have they been slipping you a pay-check? Since when have you been working for them? Umbrella?"

This didn't get the response I was hoping for. I was so angry at him that I expected him to respond with as much emotion. But he stayed calm, like we were just having a civil discussion about our differing views on some minor police protocol.

"I think you're a bit confused. I've always been with Umbrella. And S.T.A.R.S. were Umbrella's, no, rather _my_ little sacrificial lambs"

"You are just a slave of Umbrella! Just like those things!"

He moved fast, and I, stupidly not ready for it, was kicked down, and found a handgun pointed at my head.

"Hmh. Those things, as you call them, mean nothing to me. The real prize is right here."

He motioned towards the relief, and it was then I saw what it was. A huge door carved from rock, or perhaps of some alien material, as parts of it seemed more organic, almost like they were not built, but grown. I couldn't believe it could actually be a door. Surely it was just an image of a one, carved in stone wall.

"Once you see it, you'll understand. It's beautiful..."

He started talking, or chanting, if that inhuman noise can be called either. It was in a language not meant to be spoken by human mouths, or heard by human ears. It blended in the weird background sounds, and it seemed like he was joined by a chorus of invisible things, although perhaps it was simply an echo.

I can remember parts of it, them being burned to my memory, but I will not write them here, even if I could find a way to duplicate the alien vocal sounds in letters meant for English.

I could not move, staring at the person I had trusted, and who had turned out to be completely different from what I thought. It was as if a mask had dropped from his face, and seeing it distorted in this unspeakable mixture of madness and joy made it hard to understand why I hadn't seen it before.

And then the door started to open, making no sound, it felt somehow unreal, how could a structure that huge and ancient open so silently?

I reacted without thinking, and threw the light grenade at it.

I was too close of the blast, and hadn't really even made a good throw, in the half-laying position I was in from, and was blinded by the grenade.

I stumbled to the stairs, relying on my sense of touch, leaning on the wall, letting it lead me to the exit.

Amidst the odd, alien sounds I can't describe, apart from saying they felt everywhere in my body, like a really low bass sound, except that it sounded like a screeching, there was a human scream that made me look back.

What I saw was a spiked limb, or a claw stretching out of the door that was now ajar, hitting Wesker and going right through his abdomen, skewering him, and then throwing him aside.

I could not see it clearly, still blinded, luck on my side.

I turned back to the stairs and scrambled up them, not looking back.

And once I started to get my sight back I ran, making my way towards the way I came from, shielding my ears from the horrid sounds, almost falling because of it.

But not looking back. If I had turned to look, I don't think I could have ran, I would have been frozen by fear and horror, or perhaps gone insane.

It felt like the ground itself was shaking.

"Chris!"

I could see Jill and Rebecca before me, running to me, telling me how the prison door had opened and how we had to get out of there.

Rebecca shouted, I think there was so much noise she had to shout, but the odd thing is, I can't really recall what kind of sound there was, coming from beyond. Perhaps I had lost my hearing. She was telling me that she had set off the self-destruct system, and that we had to get out of there.

She got no resistance from me, and the three of us escaped towards the surface. There were some kind of creatures that came after us at one point, I didn't really see what they were, a bundle of insect-like legs making odd sounds, but we mostly ignored them in our frantic escape.

And then we were out, and in a court-yard with a helipad, and I never would have thought that the sight of that ghastly mansion could be such a relief.

Rebecca had somehow acquired signal rockets she shot to the morning sky, and we soon heard the blessed sound of the rotors of the Alpha team helicopter, piloted by Brad Vickers, and got on board, just in time to get away from the explosion the medic had somehow triggered.

Umbrella must have realized they needed, in case of an emergency, a way to bury the route to that underground place, and prepared a self-destruct system that could collapse the tunnels and destroy the mansion.

I could only hope it destroyed the thing Wesker had tried to free, or at least trap it there.

* * *

><p>And afterwards, when we returned to Raccoon City, to the normal life, we soon found that if we told what had really happened, no-one would believe us.<p>

I tried telling them about it, and was ordered to see a psychiatrist, normal procedure after a disastrous mission like that, where most of our team was lost, but I was wary of this, in case it was an attempt to find out what I knew or declare me insane.

He simply listened, and smiled, when I told him the very much cut-down version, speaking of explosions and unknown things caused by an illegal experimentation.

It was suggested it would be best if I went on leave for a while. Rested a bit after such a traumatic experience. Yes, it would be looked into, yes they would investigate Umbrella's ties to the mansion.

I took the offer.

And I fled.

I couldn't stand being near Jill, watching her not live, but simply exist.

For the thing Wesker had shown her had broken her will.

I think she had witnessed other things as well, I once heard her yell in her sleep about chained, hideous creatures that performed their bloody rites by tearing off human faces and wearing them, of stone altars and coffins filled with blood.

But she refused to talk about it when awake, and I wished for her sake that had been just a nightmare.

But it was hard to get her to talk about anything, she no longer seemed to have the interest in things she had before, and now I can say I understand her. She knew there was nothing we could do, but I, not yet realizing the scope of the things we faced, still thought we could make a difference.

So I directed my full attention to bringing down Umbrella, collecting evidence against them. If I could prove the existence of those unnatural things, then, I thought, people would listen.

Of what happened to Rebecca Chambers, I do not know, as she disappeared soon after we returned to Raccoon, leaving behind two items; a short diary telling the incomprehensible story of another mansion and it's shapeless horrors that claimed the Bravo team, and an odd leech-like idol made of some kind of alloy or stone unlike anything I had ever seen. I showed it to the curator of Raccoon City museum, who was fascinated by it, and asked me if he could borrow it to perform some tests to find out what it was made of, and not liking the feeling the statue gave to me, I was more than happy to part with it.

As far as I know, it was destroyed when Raccoon City was nuked, and I can't say I'm sorry.

And Rebecca...

I fear the worst, but perhaps she was lucky, and has simply died.

Not everyone who came into contact with the horrors Umbrella brought to this world was so lucky.

This is where the story gets painful for me.

But this is the most important part of this manuscript, as it is the only explanation I can offer for the things I must do now.

I have a younger sister, Claire. She was an independent and strong young woman, although I can't ever see her as anything else than this little kid who followed me everywhere when I was a teenager.

I cut off all ties to her when I went after Umbrella, thinking I was protecting her this way, keeping her out of this, letting her live a normal life.

I was wrong.

After not hearing about me she did what I should have guessed she would; she travelled to Raccoon to find out what I was involved in.

And was trapped in that Hell that was Raccoon City.

Of what exactly happened, I can but speculate.

Seeing how infamous the case of Raccoon City is, I'm certain you have heard of the story of the virus that broke out of Umbrella's secret laboratories, infecting the people in the small city, spreading through it, transforming them to living dead who moved on to infect others.

Claire survived this, but was changed.

Unlike Jill, she was more than ready to talk about what she had seen there.

She talked about formless things, and ancient rites, and how the planets had been aligned to bring forth the new age of star-born gods.

I did not want to listen to her, as sometimes I could hear that there was not just fear and disgust, but awe, and even wonder and zeal, in her voice when she spoke about these things, and she soon stopped talking about them to me.

But not before asking me a lot of questions about that fateful night in the mansion. She showed me a passage in an alien language she had found in her treasured Necronomicon, and I could recognize parts of it.

I did not tell her that I had heard them in that underground place, but I think she, perceptive as ever, noticed my reaction.

After that I did not speak about my experience to her.

She turned all of her attention to occult studies and spent all her hours, barely sleeping or eating, either in her room reading and translating ancient texts from all over the world and studying subjects like astronomy and anthropology, or roaming the nightly streets, alone or in the company of someone else, I did not know.

I just wanted her to stop, and go back to being how she had been before. I didn't like the effect of the research she was doing had on her, so one night she was away I broke into her study, gathered all her books and notes, carried them on the yard and burned them.

When she returned and saw what I had done, she, instead of yelling at me, just said nothing, went in her room, backed her belongings and perhaps some texts and items I had not found, and left.

And I let her go.

Afterwards, I tried finding her, but all leads came back empty.

I contacted Leon S. Kennedy, a rookie police officer who I knew had been with my sister in Raccoon City, and that the two had helped each other survive, but he told me he hadn't been in contact with Claire after the incident, and wanted nothing to do with either one of us.

I asked about what had happened in the city, but, like Jill, Kennedy was reluctant to talk. I had heard of a girl called Sherry that had been with the two when they had escaped from the city, but when I asked about her, he simply told me she was gone.

I tried to get him to talk, but all he told me was that she "took after her father".

Who, or indeed _what_ her father was, I don't know, and all my efforts to find the girl have been fruitless.

So I once again focused on Umbrella, as I suspected Claire would as well, and hoped I would run into her this way.

And then, in December 1998, I got the message from my sister.

She was caught by Umbrella, transported to their secret prison in Rockfort island. The undead things had taken over the base, and in the following chaos, she had escaped.

Concerned for her safety, but glad she would contact me for help, I immediately left for the coordinates she had transmitted.

By pulling in some favors from old army-buddies, I managed to get a plane, and so after few hours, I landed on the Rockfort island.

The first person I came across on Rockfort was a dying man, maimed by a beast of some kind, holed up in the cellars with a shotgun.

"I didn't expect to find another living person left on this island. Who are you?"

he demanded to know.

As he at least seemed human, I approached him slowly, hands empty, but ready to grab my gun and defend myself if the need arose.

"I came here looking for a certain girl."

"A girl?"

He sounded like he knew something, so I asked:

"Have you seen anyone named Claire Redfield?"

"Did you just say Claire?"

He lowered his gun.

"You know who she is, don't you?"

"Don't worry about her. I helped her escape. Several planes took off from this island not long ago. While I can't say for certain, she was probably on one of them."

"I see. I guess my sister owes you. Thanks for helping."

He breathed in with some difficulty staring at the distance. For a moment I thought he had forgotten about me. But suddenly he continued, staring at me, sounding like his mind was clear:

"Everyone's gone. I may be the only person left. Go on, follow your sister and get off this island."

"Hold on, don't give up!"

But it was too late for him. He smiled.

"Looks like I can meet my family, again, at least I died a true death."

"Please, at least tell me your name."

But he didn't seem to hear or understand me anymore.

I wish I could have stayed with him to the end, but as I had to hurry to my sister, I left him there, although he couldn't have lived for more than few minutes.

This was a small incident, compared to everything else that happened, but I had to tell about it. Partly because its important, that there had been some humanity left in that place, and someone who had helped Claire.

I couldn't do anything for him, and left him die there all alone, so I guess I wanted to at least tell about him and that there was someone like that in that place, even if I don't even know his name.

And partly because a lot of what happened in there, on Rockfort, and more importantly, on Antarctic is a jumble in my mind. But that in its relative normalness is something that is less insane and somehow remembering it gives me certainty all those other things happened as well.

I made my way towards the surface, and soon found myself amongst several buildings. There had been a large colony here.

It was clear it had been attacked by something else than the undead freaks, or even hybrid creatures. I suspected a paramilitary group of some kind.

Unspeakable horrors had been going on there, torture-chambers, prison complexes, laboratories with corpses on their tables, weird statues...

Those same kinds of monsters, with distorted shapes that suggested they had been human once were around, but most of them dead, killed by weapon fire, or in some cases torn apart, maybe the result of them turning on each other.

I managed to find out this island was connected to a site in Antarctica, of all places, and found computer-logs that indicated two planes had taken off just few hours ago, and automatically headed towards the South.

If Claire had indeed been on one of those planes, she would not have gotten away, and who knew what things awaited her on that site on the Antarctica.

I headed towards those coordinates, hoping my sister was all right.

* * *

><p>I landed on Antarctica, and that's where my memory becomes uncertain.<p>

I remember things, scenes that happened, some of them far more clearly I wish to, but their order is chaotic, and I can't be certain what happened before what.

I remember the smell. The whole place, a research facility and an interconnected mansion smelled rotten, like the whole building was a corpse, and in the process of drying out and being mummified by the freezing winds.

I also remember the cold. At first, later there was fire, but I get ahead of myself.

And I remember finding her, the only good memory I have from that place.

She was locked in a cell, just like Jill back in the mansion.

"Claire? Is that you, Claire?"

"Chris?"

Her voice, I hardly recognized it. She sounded hysteric.

"No, door won't open, Hey, Claire, are you all right?"

All I heard was sobbing.

I would like to tell you I got the door open, didn't leave her, got her away from there before they got to her again.

I would like to believe I did.

But it's important I'm completely honest. If I lie here, it casts doubt over everything else I told. Maybe not for people who read this, but for myself.

The truth is I left her. I had to, I couldn't get the door open, I had to find the key or some means to get her out of there.

I did return for her, I got back to her, but not before He did. I got her back and away from there, but He got to her first.

I will tell you about Him.

But before that, I'll write about Alexia Ashford.

What I know of her and the rest of the Ashfords, I found out from documents around Rockfort and that base. I don't know much about them, and I don't even want to. I have given up on bringing the truth about Umbrella and the forces behind it to light, and after getting away from Antarctica, made no inquiries about them.

What's important in the light of this story is that they were strongly involved with Umbrella, Edward Ashford being one of the founders, and I suspect Umbrella was merely a new name and a public face for a group that had pursued their dark interests for centuries, maybe thousands of years.

The Ashfords were an old family with a prestigious history. However, by the 18th century they had fallen into poverty and ruination.

Until the current head of the family had married Veronica.

Her origins and home country were unknown, but it was rumored she was disfigured, by birth or in an accident, and rarely left the house. And when she did, she wore a veil hiding her features.

She gave birth to children, and it was rumored the odd disfigurement was hereditary, and while the children were presentable there was something off-putting in them.

But the family itself flourished, the Ashfords now possessing great riches, some in the shape of bizarre antique gold objects.

It was assumed Veronica had brought the money to the family as her dowry, riches pillaged from the colonies.

But their luck and money eventually ran out, and by the time Alexander, the son of one of the founders of Umbrella, became the head of the family, it had lost most of it's influence.

But he had decided to turn their luck around and bring the Ashfords back to the high status they had enjoyed.

He had two children, twins Alfred and Alexia.

Their mother was never seen, or heard about, but I uncovered mentions of "Project Veronica", and how the twins were the product of that. Most likely Alexander sought to renew the bond of the family with those inhuman forces. Maybe even with the very same Veronica his ancestor had.

But unlike her, the twins were beautiful and intelligent, especially the girl, and she got a position in Umbrella at the age young of 10.

Few years later it was reported Alexia had died.

Maybe she had. But the fact remains she was there, well and alive, in the mansion in Antarctic. A mansion so similar to the one where all this had begun for me.

She was perfect in every way. Her skin smooth, eyes bright, hair lush and golden.

And yet I can't say she was beautiful. Maybe her skin was too smooth, her eyes too bright, hair too metallic.

Or there was something odd about the proportions of her face and body.

Even before I saw her true form, I was taken aback by the sight of her.

And while I was charmed by her beauty, and impressed by her majestic presence that demanded attention, I was also horrified by certain _unnatural _quality in her.

And then she showed her true form, and I felt just horror.

She burned.

Burned by some inner fire that came from her and enveloped her.

At first I thought her skin was being charred by the flames, but it was changing, fire relinquishing any facade of humanity, burning it away revealing the creature underneath.

At first, it still resembled a human, like some odd plant grown into that form. Like a root twisted to look like a woman.

But soon even this resemblance disappeared, its form twitching, growing, like some enormous cancer, or a flower of some kind, wings sprouting from its back and other odd extensions and limbs appearing from different parts of that disgusting mess.

She burned. Everything in that mansion did, the fire spreading, the trashing of her monstrous form bringing down walls, making the whole house collapse. Hopefully she perished then, but I can't put my hopes to that. And what about her twin brother, Claire told me he had died, but had he truly? And even if they both burned and died, would simple death stop creatures such as those?

I have skirted around the issue long enough. It's time I tell you about Him.

I know this happened before I met Alexia, but I have on purpose recounted these events in wrong order. I suppose I partly wanted to avoid talking about it, and yet it's the most important thing, the one I must tell you above all others.

I was walking in the base (was it Antarctica, or Rockfort? No matter) trying to find my way through.

And then I heard his voice:

"Long time no see, Chris."

"Wesker?"

And indeed, he was there. The dead man. The man who officially died in a failed police-operation. The man who I had seen impaled through his stomach and die.

There, looking like nothing had happened, wearing a black uniform fitting for some paramilitary organization, the sunglasses hiding his eyes.

"I came for Alexia."

"Who?"

Yes, at that time I had not yet met her, for that I am certain.

"You attacked the island? And my sister!"

He moved, or rather just stopped existing in one place and then was in another, like he had never moved. His gloved hand fastened around my neck, forcing me to stay still, somehow beyond just holding me in place with just physical strength.

Maybe he exerted some malign will over me, or perhaps I was just frozen in place by fear.

"You have no idea how much I hate you. You destroyed my plans, so now I've sold my soul to a new master. Die."

Upon hearing it, I somehow got control of part of my body back, and with one desperate last gesture, I punched him to the face, making his sunglasses fall.

And it may sound weird, and not fit with everything I have told you, but it wasn't the sight of that half-human plant thing that had the greatest effect on me.

The thing that most haunts my nightmares, no not even just nightmares, every moment, were His eyes.

I saw them just for a moment, when I knocked those sunglasses off him, but his eyes were,

God, I know I can't really describe them, and even if I could give a description that would fully depict them, I wouldn't.

All I'll say is that his eyes, that had been grayish blue back when we were working together in S.T.A.R.S, now were like those of some hellish feline, and shining with red light.

He looked me directly in the eyes, maybe for just a fraction of a second, but it felt like an eternity, and part of that _look _stayed with me, marking my very soul.

He was no longer human.

And somehow the fact that I had known him when he had been one made it worse.

I don't know what he was turned into, but that light, it was...

It was incorporeal, somehow independent of the body, even his eyes.

And the worst part is, I can see it so clearly in my mind, and it somehow feels that when I think about it, that moment blends in with the present and summons his very presence to me.

I have written too much about it already, I fear anyone reading this will somehow see them in their mind's eye as clearly I do now.

I don't know how I got away from him.

Maybe Alexia interrupted him.

Maybe I never did get away.

Maybe I never truly got my sister back from him either. Even if I got her away from there eventually, even though we escaped Antarctic, things had happened to her that had changed her. I can't help but to think that if I had gotten her away right away from that cell and He had never visited her...

Claire's mind had been permanently affected, sometimes it seemed she didn't even know where she was, screaming and talking to things only she could see, sometimes with foreign languages, some of which resembled too closely those evil verses.

Often she would talk about "Steve", someone she had escaped with from Rockfort, but who had faced a horrible fate in Antarctica.

If, indeed, he existed in the first place, and was not simply another figment of her imagination. Sometimes she would imagine this Steve was attacking her, and cry out for him, begging him to stop.

I tried keeping her at home, but I was unable to watch over her at all times, and so I once found her lying in the pool of her own blood after slashing her thighs open with a kitchen knife, hysterically laughing and telling me she was letting the darkness out.

I had to get her to a hospital, and as it became obvious she was a threat to herself, if not to others, she was committed into a mental hospital.

I visit her every week, and usually she seems normal, until she starts talking about unreal landscapes she has visited, or planets and stars and about those _things._

She told me Wesker had come to her in a dream and promised he would bring Steve back, and after interrogating the nurses, and making certain no-one but me had visited her, it seems it was indeed just a dream. No, I can't call it _just_ a dream.

And now, I can't handle the solitude anymore. I spend all my nights in nightclubs with a lot of people and noise. And light, above all, although it won't stop all of them. I am afraid of falling asleep, and try to time it in the middle of the day, but even still I only sleep in short pieces, waking up from nightmares that appear as soon as I fall asleep.

I have become paranoid about seeing people's eyes. I got thrown out of one club after trying to get one of the patrons to remove their glasses, certain that I had seen a glint of light that wasn't just reflection on his eyes.

Every time I see someone in the shadows, or hear footsteps in the dark, I think it's him.

Albert Wesker, or the thing that used to be him.

He will come for me one night, in person instead of a dream, or even worse, for Claire. I know he will.

I have made my decision.

Tomorrow, I'll go to see Claire. The nurses there know and like me, they won't try to search me.

So I can easily smuggle a gun there.

A magnum, powerful enough to destroy the brain, with two bullets.

One for her, and one for me.

I know people will think I'm a monster, when it's all done.

But I don't care.

I'm done playing the hero.

This is all I can do.


End file.
